


Castiel Swears During Sex

by SarahJaneS



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Castiel, Angel Wings, Angst and Porn, Castiel/Dean Winchester Wing Kink, Dean Has A Wing Kink, First Time, Gay Sex, M/M, Male Homosexuality, PWP without Porn, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahJaneS/pseuds/SarahJaneS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a one shot little wing kink for the Destiel Secret Santa 2015!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel Swears During Sex

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sexuallydisoriented (Cheezalot)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheezalot/gifts).



Castiel rubbed at his eyes and studied the buttons of his remote control. Channel up and channel down. Volume up and volume down. He flipped through the talk shows and smiled. It had been two weeks since Rowena robbed him of his dignity. Two weeks since he came to the realization that a mere human could render him completely out of control of himself and cause him to do such terrible things. Unspeakable things. That poor woman; he could still feel the warmth of her neck under his clenching fingers, and then there was Dean. Yet again, like so many times before, he had failed to protect Dean as he should. Yet again, he hurt Dean when it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Ever. Seeing Dean’s face…it broke Castiel’s heart. 

The woman on the talk show was confessing to her husband how she was having an affair with his father and Castiel pressed the button on the remote. Channel up. He wanted to vanish. He wanted to simply cease to exist. It was easier to drown those thoughts with the illuminated images on the television screen. 

Castiel’s phone rang and he glanced down to where he had placed it next to him on the bed. His blue eyes illuminated under the glow of the screen; Dean’s name like a tattoo reflecting in his irises. Castiel looked away. What good could he possibly offer to his hunter friend? What good could he offer anyone when he was so easily swayed even now after all that he had learned of this world. How wonderful it would feel to go back to those earlier days when he was just an angel. An angel of the lord on the side of the righteous man and his wayward brother. He was doing good deeds once upon a time. Before the Leviathan. Before Rowena. Castiel yearned to feel the touch of holy grace once more. 

Easing out of the bed, Castiel felt numb as he shuffled out of the room and into the hallway of the bunker. He was foggy; disconnected from the world, and needed to be in the sun once more. He made his way through the now familiar halls to the main common area and let his eyes wander up the staircase to where the exit stood waiting for him. He hesitated; thinking about how many things could go wrong. He was dangerous. The world wasn’t safe when he was leashed; his collar pulled by a much sinister force than his own. He could kill again; his own kind or the humans he wanted so desperately to protect. The thought made him…anxious. But he pushed forward, refusing to be cowed by his own unsettled emotions, and climbed the stairs grudgingly to make his way outside. 

When he pushed open the main door to the bunker, the sun brushed against his face and Castiel closed his eyes. The wind was gentle upon his skin; whispers of sensation along his face, and he hummed at the invitation of the caress. It told him to let go; go frolic and play; to forget his torment and just simply exist for a little while. Castiel decided to answer the call. He ventured into the woods surrounding where the bunker was hidden, and wandered without goal or purpose. He let his legs move on their own while his mind was a distant speck of light along the canvas of his consciousness. Castiel closed his eyes, allowing his feet to guide him without sight, and gently pulled back the curtain that remained as a barrier between this world and that other worldly place that angels could influence but humans could never touch. In an instant, his wings came into existence. 

Those wings, once large proud glossy feathers, have become something broken and tarnished. Between the many trials that he had endured and ending with the robbery of his grace by Metatron, Castiel was truly exhausted and his wings reflected that burden. He glanced over his shoulder, examining the large patches of twisted or missing feathers and sighed. His molt would come soon but until then, he managed to get by. Sometimes he flew; sometimes he drove the car Sam disliked but that he grew fond of. Sometimes he simply remained or relied on his vessels feet. Eventually he would rebuild and regrow; eventually, he would be complete once more. At least, he could tell himself that because deep down he knew he has never felt complete. Not since the dawn of time. 

Castiel walked, and his wings stretched and flexed out behind him. It felt good to have them exposed even in the state they were in. It has been too long and if he wasn’t so ashamed of how they looked, he would have allowed himself this liberty long ago. He would have stretched them out proudly the very instant Rowena finally released him from his horrible curse. Instead he hid and he continues to hide. Even now in this secret place, he was escaping from the world he grew to love. 

The forest opened up to a vast clearing and when Castiel approached it, he realized he was facing the edge of an expansive lake. The sun glittered against the water, dancing reflections against his eyes, and Castiel winced into the brightness. In the land of the holy, this was the most sacred of places. Slowly, Castiel pulled his trench coat off of his body and draped it onto the ground. He lowered himself upon it, stretching out his legs in front of him, and tilted his head up towards the sky. An arc of birds sang as they drifted past overhead. Their wings a perfect spread of plumage that allowed them to glide upon the air currents with little thought or care. Castiel glanced down, examining his own wings as they spread out behind him. He ran a hand through some of the feathers and sighed. He loved to feel them but it hurt to see what they’ve become. He didn’t want to look anymore. Castiel closed his eyes. 

 

Dean snapped his phone shut after the thing went to voicemail for the hundredth time and tossed it into the backseat in frustration. 

“I’m telling you, Sammy, something is up. Cas wouldn’t ignore us like this,” Dean said gruffly and then glanced across the bench seat in the front of the impala to where his brother stared out the passenger window. 

“You mean he wouldn’t ignore _you_ like this,” Sam muttered but Dean did him a favor and pretended to ignore that last comment. 

“We should head back. I know we were going to hang around for another day and make sure the coast was clear, but the not-so-friendly Masterson’s are just going to have to deal with any ghostly revisits on their own. Family comes first and Cas needs us.” 

“I know Dean,” Sam said, glancing over at him, “I know. He has been…depressed lately, I think.” Dean looked at his brother and then frowned at the road before him. What the hell did Cas have to be depressed about? 

Sam was always the more insightful one; the guy that saw the sensitive underside of everything and Dean admired that about him. The problem was that Dean got the blunt end of dad growing up and constantly heard phrases like “suck it up” and “get over it, sissy” thrown in his face. He didn’t know how to deal with depression. He didn’t know how to comfort a friend in need. He was going to have to try though. For Cas, he would. 

“How long will it take us to get there?” Dean asked and clenched his jaw to stop the nervous tension he was feeling seep into the words. He must not have done a very good job because Sam glanced at him again and this time there was sympathy just oozing from those puppy dog eyes. 

“A little over an hour,” he said gently and Dean nodded. Reaching out, he pressed fingers against the ejected tape and slammed it back into the deck. A little rock would help the trip go faster. 

When they finally pulled in front of the bunker entrance, Dean hopped out of Baby before the car even sputtered out its last few hiccups at the cut of the engine, and made his way to the door. He flew down the steps, determined to not come across as too angry when he confronted Cas about not answering his phone, but when he looked in the room that Castiel claimed as his own, Dean found the phone still resting on his bed. But Cas wasn’t there. What the hell? 

Dean scooped up the phone, looking through the text messages and missed calls but Cas didn’t receive any outside contacts. Everything was from Sam and Dean. Older messages showed conversations with Claire, but nothing eluded to where he might have vanished to presently. Dean sighed, and closed his eyes. Tilting back his head, he thought of something appropriate to say. 

“Cas, if you can hear this, we’re home and…kind of wondering where you’re at. Bring your feathery ass over here and lets have a pow wow.” Dean cracked an eye and looked around. He opened the other and furrowed his brow. No Cas. Frowning, he looked down at the phone in his hand and then tossed it back on the bed. Lot of good that thing did anyway. 

Cas was always like this. He was here and then gone. He was on Dean’s side then suddenly he had his own agenda. The whole thing frustrated him to no end but things seemed…different lately. He couldn’t put his finger on it but Cas just didn’t want to come along when they offered, and he didn’t talk much about what was going on upstairs. It was like he didn’t care anymore. It was like he had given up. Sam was right: Cas was depressed. 

“Any luck?” Sam asked and Dean turned to see him leaned against the doorframe. 

“He left his phone. He won’t…he won’t answer my prayers,” Dean said and hated how he sounded like a girl. But the more he thought about all of this, the more anxious he got. Something was wrong with Cas and now he’s gone MIA. Dean didn’t know what to do. 

“Maybe he’s still around. The bunker is a big place,” Sam offered gently and Dean nodded. He had a point after all. He glanced around the room one last time, and then followed his brother out into the hall. 

“Let’s just do a sweep of the places we know and meet in the common area in an hour,” Dean suggested and Sam nodded wordlessly. They drifted apart; decades of brotherhood allowing them to speak without the effort of words, and Dean started to look for signs of their lost friend. 

“Cas!” he called out as he made his way into the kitchen but the area was empty. He checked the library, the computer room, the laboratory, and even some of the rooms they hadn’t gotten to checking out yet. He ended up in the garage and studied the long stretch of priceless automobiles as he frowned. His heart…it ached in his chest. He missed Cas. He should have made the angel go along with them whether he wanted to or not. If Dean insisted, Cas would have come. But no, he thought that Cas needed to heal. To relax. Blah, blah, blah. Now he was gone. 

Dean turned, refusing to dwell too deeply in that train of thought and made his way back upstairs. He would figure this out. Cas had to be there somewhere. He would find him somehow. He reached for his phone, thinking to text Sam that he was on his way when he realized it wasn’t in his pocket. He had left it in the back of his car. Well, shit. 

Dean moved through the bunker with purpose and climbed the stair to head out into the sun filled day. The afternoon stretched shadows long against the grassy dirt lane, and Dean’s eye caught a glimpse of disturbance in the dirt. His father taught him how to be the best damn hunter there was, and one his first lessons was tracking. Dean reached into his car to retrieve his phone, then went to where he saw the disturbance in the road and squatted down next to it. A partial boot impression. Male. It had to be Cas. 

Pulling out his phone, Dean sent a quick text message to Sam: “I think he’s outside. I’m tracking him.” Then he was on his feet and into the woods to chase after his friend. 

 

Castiel did not need sleep. None of the angels of the lord did as it simply allowed them too much vulnerability. This did not mean he was incapable of the practice. It was something that was passed on to him through the bond that he shared with his vessel. Castiel did not need sleep, but he desired it. The sun stretched low; warming his face once more and covering his skin in a gentle blanket that relaxed him into complacency. Sinking down upon his jacket, Castiel curled into a ball and closed his eyes. He draped his wings around himself protectively; an act as old as the dawn of time, and allowed his consciousness to slip into a darker place where he imagined humans went to dream. In the stillness of the late afternoon, his thoughts turned to Dean. 

 

Dean didn’t know that a lake was behind their bunker. If he had known, he would have gotten a jet ski or some other man-toy to mess around with. His own damn lake all to himself. You can’t beat that. He followed Cas’s trail to the waterfront and almost missed him entirely if it wasn’t for that damn trench coat thrown out against the earth. Cas. Fuck. Dean just stood and stared. 

Cas was curled into a ball, seemingly asleep, but he looked so pale and tired Dean felt as though his heart was twisting. Dean wanted to go to him; to comfort him, but at the same time he couldn’t stop staring at him. Wrapped around Cas, quivering slightly and glistening in the sun, were two large white wings. Dean had never seen Cas’s wings before but they were nothing like he imagined. They looked…damaged somehow. They looked bedraggled and weathered. He could see areas where the feathers were twisted against each other and wondered if they might look better if he corrected them. His fingers twitched at the thought of actually touching Cas in that way and Dean quickly looked away. He didn’t want to go down this road again. He gnawed on the corner of his lip and eyed the expanse of water trying to decide what to do when he heard the soft shuffle of Cas moving. Glancing down again, he watched as Cas reached out and grabbed the ends of his feathers which he tucked tighter against his body. Dean pressed his lips together tightly. He wasn’t going to fucking cry. But god, Cas looked so…sad. 

Dean quietly sat down on the leaves and dirt next to Cas’s trench coat and studied his friends face. He didn’t remember when Cas changed from omnipotent sex bomb, to confused awkward friend, but Dean definitely liked the second Cas better. It just felt more natural; like that first guy was an act to show off, and this was the real deal. Dean wondered how many people actually got to see Cas in this way. Team Free Will’s angel mascot, curled up on a coat laying in a cocoon of his own wings. No one but Dean, of course. He supposed that made him a little special. 

Without thought; without hesitation, Dean reached out and ran his fingers against the hair at Cas’s temple. Then his hand drifted higher and fingers explored the thicker part on the top of Cas’s head. He examined the feel of Cas’s hair against his skin, as he slowly trailed his fingers along his scalp to its end. He repeated the action again. Then again. Cas’s hair was soft; silky to the touch. Dean’s hair was much thicker and coarse compared to this feeling. It was lustrous. I was inviting. Dean trailed his fingers again, and then he lifted them to softly brush fingertips along the arch of Cas’s one wing. Cas’s eyes shot open and he sat up suddenly with a gasp. 

“Easy, easy,” Dean said gently as he reached out and took Cas’s hands in his own. “It’s just me.” 

“Dean?” Cas said, blinking his confusion. Then, as reality returned to him, Cas immediately tried to recoil and pull away. Dean held onto his hands tighter. This was always the way with Cas. Dean would get so close to him and then Cas would immediately pull away. If it wasn’t Cas, it was Dean pulling away. Always drifting apart and never coming together. 

“Don’t wink out on me,” Dean snapped and Cas glanced over his shoulder nervously. Dean tightened his grip and yanked on Cas’s hands to get his attention. The angel’s head whipped around and, oh yes; there were those firey blues Dean knew and loved. 

“Can you see them?” Cas asked hesitantly and Dean frowned in confusion. 

“Are you talking about your wings, Cas? Yeah, I can see them.” Cas immediately deflated. He lowered his head, no longer wishing to meet Dean’s eye, and stared at his lap instead. 

“Cas, what’s up? Why are you out here? Why are you acting like this?” 

“I just…wanted to feel like an angel again,” Cas said sadly and Dean felt that twisty-heart sensation again. He let go of Cas’s hand and reached for his face instead. Gently, he cupped his fingers against Cas’s cheek and Cas leaned into the touch. He closed his eyes. 

Dean would deny it until the sun turned green if Sam ever caught wind but he and Cas, well…they might have crossed over that friend zone barrier once before. It was a mistake; they both agreed on that, but ever since it happened, Dean can’t seem to get it out of his head. He couldn’t get _Cas_ out of his head, and he had to wonder if Cas ever thought of the whole thing too. 

“Cas, you _are_ an angel,” Dean said gently, and then, leaning closer, he dropped his voice to barely above a whisper, “you’re _my_ angel.” Cas looked up at him, and bitterness seemed laced into every feature on his face. 

“Then do you see what your angel has become?” he asked sharply as he got to his knees. His wings stretched out to either side of him and Dean could see the full extent of the damage rendered there. “Do you see what is left of me?” 

Dean lifted off of the ground and got to his knees as well. The dirt ground a little into his legs and he edged closer but Castiel didn’t move. He simply stared; jaw clenched, wings quivering behind him. 

“Never doubt for a second how amazing you are,” Dean said gently and Cas stared at him as though he didn’t comprehend. 

“Do you not see? Are you blind, Dean Winchester?” he said with a dry scoff and Dean flashed his best charming smile. So yeah, maybe they both agreed it was for the best they hadn’t explored things further than that night years ago, but Cas seemed lonely somehow. Lost. In that same way that he communicated with Sam, Dean just knew without words that Cas needed him. He reached out, and splayed his fingers to trail them against the inner feathers of Cas’s wings. Cas pulled away before the touch connected. 

“Don’t!” he hissed and his wings quivered more violently. 

“Let me fix them,” Dean whispered, and felt an odd yearning inside. He wanted to touch those wings. He wanted to know what it felt like to come into contact with this other worldly part of his friend. 

Castiel gaped for a moment, then looked away with spots of color rising in his cheeks and up his neck. 

“You don’t understand the amount of shame I am feeling. For anyone to see them in this state, especially you, it’s humiliating.” Cas bit at his lip and his gaze lowered back to the ground between them. Dean had about enough with Cas’s sudden insecurity. He reached out and just plunged his hand into the soft downy coverts that made up Cas’s inner wing. Cas gasped, falling back against his trench coat once more, but Dean didn’t pull away. He combed fingers through the inner feathers, removing the tangles, and it seemed to show improvement to the overall wing. Dean moved to the broader feathers; the primaries and smoothed them out as well. 

Cas shuddered. He lifted his hands to cover his face as he eased back against his jacket but he did not make an effort to stop Dean, so he continued. He smoothed out what he could, and noticed that new feathers seemed to be coming in where larger holes were pulled out. Even battered and bruised, Cas’s wings were beautiful and Dean was glad that Cas didn’t run away even though he could tell that Cas wanted to. He reached up above Cas’s head and smoothed out the feathers at the arches of his wings. 

“Dean!” Cas groaned and Dean paused. He studied those hands covering Cas’s face, and then wrapped his own hands around them to pull them away. Cas peered up at him sullenly and his face was lit up like Christmas. His blush was all consuming. 

“Are you liking this, Cas?” Dean asked and Cas immediately looked away. His eyes focused on a point to the left and his jaw remained fixed in place. He refused to answer, but Dean didn’t need words to understand. “I think your wings are liking it too,” he said gently and smiled as he flicked the tips of new growth with his fingers. Cas focused on them as well and his eyes grew wide. 

He still didn’t speak, offering no explanation, but Dean didn’t need words to know when Cas needed him. He also could tell that he needed Cas too. Dean wasn’t about to deny either of them what they wanted. Leaning closer, Dean abandoned the wings to get two good fistfuls of hair, and looked down at Cas. He leaned in, closing the distance from inches away until their noses touched. 

“Cas?” Dean asked and Cas blinked. His eyes had glazed over. He was holding his breath. 

“Yes, Dean?” he whispered. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Dean said more confidently than he felt, and did not allow Cas a moment to respond. He closed the remaining distance, and pressed his lips against his angels. Fuck, it was better than he remembered. Cas opened up to him immediately; no awkward hesitation like the first time, and the moment their mouths worked together, it was like firecrackers were exploding inside Dean’s body. Every ounce of him fought against his mind. He wanted to rut; to fuck; to listen to the lovely way Cas moaned and screamed, but at the same time he wanted to caress; to romance; to adore him because yes, this was a mistake but a damn good one. He didn’t even know how much he longed for this. He kept trying to convince himself that they didn’t belong together and yet so quickly it all fell into place. 

Dean’s mouth worked; pressing harder and drawing each kiss out longer to convey his yearning and Cas responded vehemently through emitting soft moans directly into Dean’s mouth. And why did they ever think this was such a bad idea? Why had they stopped things before right when they were starting to get good? Because Dean had hesitated. They stopped because he was scared of the whole gay thing. He has since come to terms with those thoughts but suddenly regretted not visiting this with Cas sooner. 

Dean let the full weight of his body press against Cas and worked his thigh between Cas’s legs. Cas moaned, louder this time, and Deans tongue danced to steal the sound away. 

He forced himself to move slow. Easy rocking back and forth as he reached out and ran fingers through feathers once more. They seemed longer; the new ones pushing past early growth, and fuller somehow. Dean liked to think he had something to do with that. 

“Dean!” Cas groaned out as Dean played gentle strokes along the arches of his wings. “That feels so good, Dean!” 

Dean grinned. He kind of figured Cas liked being touched there. 

“Why didn’t you show these babies to me before, Cas?” Dean said low and husky as he tilted his head to trail kisses against Cas’s neck. Cas’s hips worked wildly beneath him; desperate for the slight friction he could provide, and for a moment Dean thought he was too lost in the moment to answer. 

“I wanted to…I would have but…the timing was always bad. And I didn’t think you wanted me; not like this.” 

“I wanted you since the moment you walked into that damn barn,” Dean admitted and pulled Cas’s jacket away from his shoulder to nip at the skin under his shirt. 

“And then they got damaged by Metatron and…I didn’t think you would be so impressed with what my wings have become,” Cas sounded so forlorned that Dean lifted his head to kiss him once more. This time the kiss was gentle; a secret shared between two lovers. Or perhaps two friends. 

“Oh trust me, I am very impressed with your wings, Cas,” Dean said through his smile and reached for them once more, “even after Metatron, the asshole.” This seemed to relax Castiel for he lifted his head to seek out Dean’s lips more readily. Dean obliged him without hesitation, but let his hand slip between them and brushed his hand against the hard length of Cas’s cock. 

Cas pulled away from Dean and groaned hungrily against the sky. Dean could only stare. That was hot. Damn hot. And Cas’s dick felt like a bar of steel. Dean rubbed it again and Cas greedily rutted into the sensation. 

“Oh yes, Dean! Yes, yes, yes,” Cas said between heavy breaths and fuck if he wasn’t on fire. Dean could feel it too. There was no slow burn with Cas. As soon as he got down to it, it was all sex infernos. He didn’t know how he ever shied away from this before, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to resist it anymore. 

Propping on his elbow, Dean calmly pulled at the fly and zipper of his jeans, and Cas responded in kind. His movements were frantic; he fumbled with his belt and pants, until Dean stilled his hands and pulled them away. 

“I got this,” he said with a grin, and Cas just looked up at him, all innocent wide eyes and bedroom hair. Dean shifted, falling in beside Cas on the coat, as he expertly worked open Cas’s pants. Then he was reaching in, pulling Cas out, and fuck; Dean was freaking out. Not cause it was a dude, he came to terms with that bit already, but just because it was _Cas_. He fanaticized this a hundred times over but nothing prepared him for the butterflies, the raging hot desire, the way his fingers shook almost as much as Cas’s wings. 

“Dean?” Cas said and his voice was so small. He looked up through his lashes, Scared and vulnerable, and Dean could not imagine denying him anything. 

“Yeah, Cas. It’s okay. I’m okay,” he said a lot more calmly than he felt. He was not going to have a repeat of their encounter all those years ago. 

Pushing everything out of his mind; refusing to think about it, Dean leaned over and ran his tongue up the length of Cas’s dick. That certainly got his attention. Cas’s head fell back again; a moan escaping with a long shudder, and his wings flapped once against the earth. Speaking of wings, they seemed to be looking a whole hell of a lot better all of a sudden. Were they…healing? Dean let his tongue work again along Cas’s length as his fingers explored the soft tufts of white and yes…they did seem thicker; almost stronger somehow. 

“Oh, Dean. That is…words cannot describe,” Cas said and his low voice seemed to drop two octaves lower somehow. Dean took it as a sign that he was doing something right and sucked in a deep breath. Licking his lips, he drew Cas into his mouth just as his hand pulled at his feathers. The result was immediate as Castiel wove his fingers into Dean’s hair and thrust up into the moist heat of his mouth. Dean rode the movement, managing not to gag, and sucked as he pulled Cas deeper in. The angel was undone. He groaned long and loud; oblivious of all surroundings, and his fingers worked within Dean’s hair; massaging his scalp, coaxing him onward. 

“Dean! Please! I need you inside me! Please!” Cas panted out and Dean realized the sudden conundrum of their circumstances. He had not expected things to get this far. He had not set out from the bunker with any expectation that he might be sucking dick before sunset, and he certainly did not think to grab a bottle of lube as he stomped out the door. He sincerely wished he had now. He lifted his head, pulling away from Castiel, and the angel lifted his hips to chase the sensation of Dean’s mouth. He lifted his head, looking down at Dean, and the expression on his face…fuck if it didn’t outdo every single fantasy Dean has ever had. 

“Cas, I didn’t bring any lube. I don’t want to hurt you…I can’t,” he said, not bothering to hide his disappointment, and Cas’s blank stare slowly shifted to understanding. 

“Where is it?” he breathed in that low sex-filled voice and Dean couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably against the hard-on he had sporting in his undone jeans. 

“I have some in my bedroom,” Dean managed to say before suddenly the world shifted around him in a blur and he was tumbling onto a mattress. He looked around and very quickly realized he was in his bedroom. “Cas!” he breathed, thinking to lecture his friend about giving him warning next time but the angel was suddenly on top of him; utterly naked, and straddling him at his hips. Dean seemed to forget how to speak beyond the sight of that. 

“Show me, Dean,” Cas said softly, and any hesitation or self-conscious nature seemed to dissolve away from his demeanor. “Show me how it is that you humans make love.” Dean swallowed against the lump forming in his throat and scrambled to pull off his shirt. Cas’s hands were upon him; warm and calm, and he helped Dean through the disassembly of his wardrobe. He supposed Cas could just as easily zap all the intrusive garments away, but the way that his eyes seemed to dance along every inch of Dean made it plain that Cas was enjoying the undressing as much as he enjoyed the undressed. The scrutiny made Dean a bit nervous which just bled into his excitement and caused his heart to beat faster. His confidence slowly dissolved under those intense blue eyes and Dean just kept thinking _this is Cas! This is my friend! Cas is an angel! A fucking angel! Naked and on top of me and…_

“Dean…” Cas said and his voice was firm; almost as though he could sense Dean’s hesitation. He lifted his eyes away from the task of pulling down Dean’s jeans and studied him intently through the dim shadows of the faintly illuminated room. The house was still. The room was silent. Dean counted his breaths as his chest rose and fell in quick succession. 

“I’m okay,” Dean said and nodded reassuringly, “I’m okay, Cas.” He wasn’t going to blunder this again. Fuck, but Cas looked so amazing and he just didn’t want to fuck this up between them. 

“Shh,” Cas said softly and stretched his arm to trail fingers through Dean’s hair. “Don’t be scared of me.” Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t scared. Not really. Cas lowered his hand, fingers distracted from the hair, and trailed the tips against Dean’s jawline. “I never want to cause you fear,” he said absently and his eyes seemed to go distant; seeing the past instead of the present. Dean sat up and pulled Cas towards him; seeking out those amazing lips once more. Both of them had their misgivings. Dean afraid of the future, Cas afraid of the past, but he would be damned if their heads got in the way of something good and ruined this for them yet again. 

Dean reached out, fingers hungrily seeking the soft caress of feathers, and even in the dim shadowy room he could tell the wings were far thicker than before. The feathers were fluffed as though each one was sticking up, and the new feathers almost glistened against any light that caught them. Dean tugged against the smaller ones, enjoying the way they seemed to quiver when he touched them, and Cas worked his hips forward; erection sliding against Dean’s stomach. 

“That feels so good,” Cas managed breathlessly and dipped his head to rest upon Dean’s shoulder. Dean tugged the feathers again; roughing them up them smoothing them out once more as Cas bit off soft moans against his skin. 

“They seem a lot better than before,” Dean managed, sounding just as breathless as Cas did. Fuck, but Cas turned on was hot as hell! “Stronger somehow.” 

“It’s…you…” Cas said and each word sounded like a whimper. His body was growing damp with a sheen of sweat; his hips rocking more rhythmically against Dean’s body. “You…heal…me. You...complete…me. I’ve never felt complete before.” 

“Cas…” Dean groaned unsure what else to do or to say. The implications of Cas’s words made him want to cry and hell if he was going to do that. Cas meant so much to him. He was everything this world had to offer and Dean just didn’t deserve it. The gift was too great, and Dean was just a guy. Just some fucking guy trying to make his way through the world by killing and stealing and surviving. He didn’t deserve this gift. He didn’t deserve Cas’s love… 

“Stop it,” Cas breathed against his shoulder, his hips never breathing their rocking motion and Dean shook his head. He pushed all thought out of his mind except one solitary goal. 

“Get these clothes off me, Cas. I want to fuck you,” Dean growled out through his teeth and in an instant the length of his dick slid nakedly next to Cas’s and…fuck. Fuck that felt good. Cas seemed to move faster; his hips thrusting like a one track locomotive. 

“Like this? Like this, Dean?” Cas asked and his voice was so gravely low it sent little shivers up Dean’s spine. His head never left Dean’s shoulder but his hands seemed to slide all over Dean’s back. 

Dean released feathers reluctantly and laid back in his bed once more. Twisting a little, he reached for his end table to pull the lubricant out of his drawer. It seemed just out of his reach, and Dean strained to get closer. 

“Is this what you need, Dean?” Cas asked and Dean turned to see him holding the little bottle in question in his hand. Dean chuckled softly. How the angel got that out of the drawer and got back in his hip-stradling position within the blink of an eye, Dean will never know. 

“Yeah, alright Cas. We’ll do this nice and slow. You let me know if it gets to be too much.” Dean took the bottle and flicked the lid open with his thumb. Squeezing some of the cool liquid onto his fingers, he spread it around and reached to bring Cas closer to him. 

Cas leaned over Dean slowly, his eyes large and blue as they threatened to swallow Dean up and suck him in, and his wings went rigid behind him as they trembled and fluffed in a half spread position. 

“Relax,” Dean said with a half smile and Cas nodded stiffly. 

“I am relaxed,” he said flatly but he didn’t sound so convincing. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Dean asked teasingly and trailed slick fingers lightly against the back of Cas’s thigh. He could hear Cas’s breath catch and he settled in more comfortably on top of Dean. 

“I want to experience human fornication, yes,” Cas said with a nod. Dean smiled. His fingers dipped into the cleft of Cas’s bare ass and brushed against the sensitive skin of his entrance. He didn’t think Cas’s eyes could go any wider. 

“I want to hear you say it,” Dean teased and his finger slid wetly back and forth. Cas’s eyes grew hooded; his lips parted slightly as a long breath escaped him. “Say you want me to fuck you.” Cas’s wings spread out, seeming to relax once more with the feel of Dean’s fingers, and feathers bent to brush along Dean’s arms. 

“Words cannot describe how that feels, Dean,” Cas said low and rushed, and Dean pushed a finger inside of him. The action made Cas gasp, and Dean tilted his head to press against Cas’s already parted lips. His finger worked as his lips kissed and Cas seemed to melt on top of him. 

“Dean! Oh…that’s so…” Cas groaned; the rhythm of thrust returning to his hips, and Dean added another finger to the first. 

“Say it for me, Cas. I want to hear you,” Dean whispered against his ear and then pulled the lobe between his teeth. 

“Angels…aren’t…supposed to…” Cas was no longer just rocking against Dean, he was riding him. His whole body trembled just like his wings and Dean knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He should stop. He should just fuck Cas because he might miss his window if he held out much longer…but fuck, he wanted to hear it. Just once. Dean pulled his fingers away, enjoying the strangled whine it caused Cas to make, and brought his hand up to squeeze some more lubricant into his palm. 

“I’m waiting Castiel,” Dean said calmly and this only made Cas all the more unhinged. He seemed to like hearing his full name on Dean’s lips. 

“I want you to…make love to me,” Cas said, his voice growing smaller with each word and Dean shook his head. He lowered his hand and rubbed the generous slick of lube over his aching cock. He couldn’t remember ever neglecting himself this long and fuck if he wasn’t on the edge of shooting a load himself. 

“Not good enough,” he growled huskily and took his dick into his hand. Gently he rubbed the head against Cas’s entrance in a lazy circle that caused Cas to tremble in his arms. “Say it.” 

“F-F-…”Cas moaned, dropped his head to pant hot breaths upon Dean’s chest. “Please Dean!” 

“Say it Cas, tell me to fuck you,” Dean said and he pushed ever so slightly against the tight ring of Cas’s opening. 

“Alright…alright…Dean…I want you to…F…F…Fuck me. Fuck me, Dean, please.” 

Oh, that was so worth the wait. 

Dean grinned in triumph and let his free hand guide Cas’s hip. He pushed harder this time, working to get inside, and just as Cas was about to give, Dean leaned in to whisper against his ear once more. 

“With pleasure.” 

When Dean pushed past any tension to ease inside of Cas, the angel seemed to lose himself. There was no slow process of relaxing muscles and mentally preparing for the task. There was no winces of pain or pauses for added lube. Dean has done anal before and yeah, while it might have not been with a guy, he knew the process well enough to understand this type of sex was often a slow process. The body doesn’t entirely accept these sensations to be pleasurable right from the door. But Cas…he was a fucking animal. He sat up, bottoming Dean in him completely, and just went to town with those crazy sexy hips of his. He leaned back a little, bracing himself with hands to Dean’s thighs, and let his wings spread fully as his eyes threatened to bore holes into Dean’s skull for all the intensity they mustered. 

“Christ, Cas!” Dean managed but really he felt speechless. One second he was in control, the second Cas took it away from him. But really was it any surprise? Was that not the entire aspect of every element of their relationship? 

“I like when you fuck me, Dean. I like feeling you fuck me. You fuck so well, Dean.” Cas said, his voice shaky but gruff and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Cas really needed to work on the dirty talk but hearing him swear like that…and those wings. Damn if those white glorious wings didn’t just take Dean’s breath away. 

Dean sat up, reaching for the soft allure of those vibrant feathers. He combed his fingers through them, feeling the taught muscle and bone underneath, and reveled in the soft sounds they made as feathers quivered against each other. 

“You’re so beautiful, Cas,” he whispered shyly; his eyes firmly affixed on the wings, and Cas pulled him closer to kiss him. His body rocked, growing more purposeful with each thrust, and his lips danced in and out of contact with Dean’s. 

“I feel like…I feel something…” Cas groaned, his eyes a hundred miles away, and Dean knew enough about human sex to know when an angel was about to come. He reached between them, closing fingers still slick with lube around the ridged length of Cas’s longing, and pumped up and down against it clumsily. Cas groaned out, his efforts turning from aroused to purposeful, and he lowered his head to concentrate on the task. 

“Are you going to fucking come for me Cas?” Dean asked, his voice shaking a little from the effort. He could feel his own buildup getting closer but he tried his best to ride it out. He just didn’t think about how incredibly good it felt. Cas closed his eyes and nodded; biting at his lip. 

“Say it, Castiel,” Dean demanded and lifted his hips to thrust with Cas’s rhythm. 

“I love when you say my name like that,” Cas panted, his face all screwed up in the effort of reaching the finish line. 

“And I love hearing you swear. Say it, Castiel!” 

“I’m going to fucking come. I’m going to…fucking…fuck…” The moan he let out would have put Dean over the edge if he wasn’t already falling from hearing the words. He never thought it was possible to time things just right and yet here they were: coming and orgasming at the same fucking time and hell if it wasn’t the best damn thing Dean ever felt. Cas’s warm semen cooling quickly on his chest; the twitch of his body as he spasmed through his bliss; the way his wings spread like a fan to fill almost the entire room as they quivered in ecstasy… 

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathed out as the angel collapsed on top of him. His wings draped down; seeming to curl around Dean protectively, and they laid together as their breath slowed and the bursts of light in Dean’s vision faded back to darkness. His hands combed through Cas’s feathers; his hair; his skin. Every part of him just as amazing as the last and all of him Dean’s. He didn’t deserve it, but he would take it all the same. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said after some time; just as Dean started to drift into a blissed out cat nap. 

“What exactly are you thanking me for?” Dean asked lazily, he let out an airy chuckle. Cas shifted his head, his hair tickling against Dean’s cheek, and Dean could hear him sigh. 

“For saving me,” he said softly, and placed a kiss against Dean’s shoulder. “For loving me.” Dean was too happy and sleepy to freak out at the word. Besides, it was true, wasn’t it? It might mean losing Cas like everything else he loved in his life. It might mean Cas was at risk of getting hurt because he was a weakness to Dean and the whole world loved exploiting Dean’s weaknesses. But none of that mattered right then and there. Let them worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes. Let them worry about the past when there was nothing left to look forward to anymore. Let them simply be and love and accept what they had and who they were with. 

“Well you’re welcome,” Dean said through his smile and let his fingers return to their exploration. “But next time we do some healing, we better put up some wards against sound. I’m sure Sam will be happy to know you’re safe, but he probably would have heard you even if he was two counties over.” 

Castiel groaned loudly. “It’s going to be embarrassing for us to face him again,” he admitted sadly. 

“Embarrassing for you, maybe, I wasn’t the one moaning at the top of my lungs,” Dean said with a laugh and grunted when Cas elbowed him gently in his ribs. He lifted his head and glared down at Dean laying beneath him. 

“You know what, Dean? Fuck you,” Cas said sternly. Then they both broke into a laugh. It was the first time Dean ever heard Castiel’s laughter. 


End file.
